Stitches
by SpookshowBabyx
Summary: House comes to Cameron's aid when she gets into trouble with a patient in the ER. Slow moving character study exploring House and Cameron's relationship. Slightly AU. M for eventual sex scenes and language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_I've had a few people ask why I haven't done a longer House fic like I do with my Once ones, so this is the beginning of my attempt at a longer, more involved piece. I didn't think I would ever want to write a post season 3 story as I'm much more in favor of the original team, but for some reason it just seemed to work out better, so I guess this is also a little bit of experimenting. This won't follow the show's storyline particularly, and doesn't factor in Chase and Cameron's relationship. Enjoy, and please please please comment! :) _

* * *

House grumbles as he limps along behind the Dean of Medicine; sure that she stalks the halls at an increased pace simply to irk him. He decides not to let a little touch of what he presumes to be premenstrual irritability deter him and proceeds to bark after her loudly, arguing his case to the dark waves that grace the back of her head. When he reaches the point at which he suggests a really rather controversial use of the hospital's most advanced MRI machine, he finally gets her undivided attention and she whirls round to face him, brow creased and notepad of blue scrawl flapping in her hand.

"House, I'm not even going to_ bother_ answering that last question! If you want to do the rest of the tests, fine, get consent-_ legal_ consent- and ask one of your team to help you, but quit pestering _me_, I have far too much that needs doing without having to babysit you-"

As if on cue she is interrupted by a commotion down the hall. The already hectic scurrying of patients in various states of health- and the doctors watching over them wearily- reaches a new crescendo, and, as the doors to the ER swing open, an accompaniment of crashing and wailing comes into play. Frowning with an exhausted sigh, Cuddy hurries over to inspect the cause of all the commotion, House following along for the simple reason that it will allow him another five minutes away from his current patient who seems hellbent on converting him to the Church of Jehovah.

By the time they reach the large fire-doors leading to the ER the hoarse yelling has been replaced by a choked growl as a man in his late thirties lies sprawled on the floor beneath a gray clad security officer. His rage-reddened face is spattered with a spray of scarlet and his eyes speak of a state long past simple inebriation. A panic-stricken nurse huddles in the corner shakily- her face paper white- beside a small blonde who mutters to her reassuringly.

Recognizing his ex-employee, House makes his way over, his brow furrowing as his eyes fall to the quick blooming rose at the young doctor's hip. He is halfway across the room when the distraught nurse clues in on her colleague's injury also and begins hollering for help as green eyes regard her in confusion.

"We need some help over here, we need-"

"-Stop that, go get your hand seen to, your finger's bleeding... Cameron..."

She glances up at him warily and he feels a familiar twinge of that old unwanted- but not wholly unpleasant- emotion as her eyes light up upon realizing who comes towards her. He moves to stand between the young nurse- now cradling her hand with shaking fingers- and the blonde and rests his hand at her waist gently, the action causing the immunologist to jump and let out a small gasp.

Regarding House curiously, it isn't until Cameron follows the direction of his ice-blue stare that she notices the blood soaking the side of her scrubs. Eyes widening, she simply mutters

"Oh."

The graying doctor returns his attention to glittering green with a frown, the blonde's lack of reaction to her injury a little disconcerting.

"You can't feel that?"

"No, I can now, I just... It just happened so quickly and I..."

At first he thinks she's simply trailing off- her tone almost mistakable for disinterest- but he recognizes the glassy cast to her gaze easily and tightens his grip at her waist, pulling at her gently so that she leans into him as a precaution.

"Hey now, come on, no fainting at the work place, Doctor, look alive please."

She offers him a small grin, her pallor an alarming contrast to her expression, and he looks up to find Cuddy watching him with a worried frown as she nods at something the security guard says. Tilting his head pointedly over to one of the small examination rooms to the left, the Dean nods and calls over

"Page Taub or Hadley, tell them to do the tests requested for your patient."

He nods, ushering Cameron over towards the door, taking in the way the young doctor leans on him heavily with each alternate step with mild concern. Cuddy turns back to the security officer, trying to get a handle on the turn of events, while several nurses already hurry about to collect strewn bedpans and implements. She knows full well that any one of the ER nurses could be trusted to see to the blonde- and she imagines Cameron is aware of this also- but she knows too that it has to be House. She sighs and gives a small shake of her head, forbidding herself to even _attempt_ to strive to understand the peculiar relationship that exists between her friend and his ex-employee.

* * *

"Lie down."

House's voice is stern as he offloads the blonde so that she perches on the paper-covered bed, but his expression is pensive rather than hard.

"I'm sure it's just a nick, you know how scalpels can-"

"-Get naked and let's see before we jump to any conclusions, Dr Cameron."

She rolls her eyes- her face a little too pale to pull the gesture off as well she she'd like- but she lies back gingerly, her mind still racing with the events leading up to her current predicament and thus allowing her to escape some of the awkwardness inevitable between them.

Despite his sarcastic request, it is House who plucks the soft pink maerial of her scrubs up and out of the way, his eyes steely as he fixates on damning scarlet staining the white cotton of her top. Shucking the ruined fabric out of the way gently, his attention is focused completely on the crimson slash to alabaster flesh, although he will later tell Wilson his interest had been primarily in the green flash of lace peeking out above the hem of her scrubs.

Pulling over a stool and perching on it casually, he leans his cane against the hard leather of the bed and reaches for a pair of gloves and a packet of antiseptic wipes. He doesn't bother to tell her it will sting- she knows- but he does offer her a warning glance before pressing stark white to bloodied flesh, his eyes flashing at the choked hiss she lets out through clenched teeth.

"So, what happened?"

"I don't even know, really... He was brought in to us about an hour ago with a head injury. As you probably saw, he wasn't exactly in the most coherent state, so it was the usual, you know, big talk, crass words, mild insults, and the promise of a good, uh, seeing to-"

"-A good seeing to?"

House raises an eyebrow and the blonde blushes.

"Don't make me spell it out for you, House. Anyway, none of this is anything new, I mean, it gets to about ten o' clock and most of the drop-offs we get are the same-"

"-And you claim you don't miss working for me..."

"I _don't_ miss you."

"Not what I said..."

"Yeah... Well... If you recall, while working for you I was still almost strangled, not to mention I was pulled through a pane of glass and-"

"-Ah but that was entirely your fault! I recall your little stunt, Dr Cameron, just as I recall the reason Shamu found himself pulling the young princess through a sheet of glass had an awful lot to do with the fact she'd deemed it a brilliant idea to drug him..."

"You get my point."

"Okay, so, crazypants in there was busy sweet-talking you into a quickie in the janitor's closet, then what?"

"I don't know... Nancy got upset and told him to stop it-"

"-Nancy's Miss I'm-a-nurse-but-I-can't-stand-the-sight-of-blood?" 

"She's a good nurse, she's probably just not used to some guy jumping up and trying to wrestle her onto a bed..."

"...Whereas _you-_"

"-Whereas I worked for _you_ for three years; nothing will surprise me... I had been trying to get some pieces of broken glass out of a wound above his eyebrow and I'd pulled over the trolley... I kept telling him to pipe down and he was just being an asshole, laughing because he kept goosing me-"

The blonde rolls her eyes and House smirks as he imagines she's inwardly muttering 'men...'

"-So I put the scalpel down because he was moving so much, and... I don't know... I turned around and then he was up, and he grabbed Nancy and I just tried to pull him off... He must've grabbed the scalpel, I guess, it was just all really quick... I pulled him off her but we both ended up on the floor... I saw that there was blood and I felt something sharp in my side but then everyone was yelling and Nancy was screaming and then Dick pulled him off me and... Never a dull moment here, I guess."

House nods, taking in everything the blonde says but never averting his attention from the cut at her side. The incision is deep- deeper than she realizes he imagines, although he supposes it would be just like Cameron to brush off her own pain despite being so adept at sympathizing with another's- and he applies a small amount of pressure to the laceration; ugly and dark now that he has cleaned up the surrounding flesh.

"Well I don't think he's nicked anything vital to your survival, but stay put while I thread up a needle."

"It's cool, I'll just patch it up, you should be getting back to-"

"- If you so much as think about sitting up I will push you right back down again, Dr Cameron...Don't make me force you into bed..."

"House, it's fine-"

"-You see, _this_ is why I don't like training doctors, they complete their fellowship and they think they know better than everyone else-"

"-I never said-"

"-Just trust me, Cameron."

"...I do."

Nodding, House reaches for a syringe and proceeds to prepare a local anesthetic but the young doctor shakes her head, looking up at him from the table, her long hair fanning out beneath her.

"Don't use that; I'm still on the clock for the next three hours and I can't work if I can't-"

She yelps as House raises an eyebrow and proceeds to hone in on taut flesh, despite her request not to, and sighs as the graying doctor depresses the plunger.

"-walk..."

"Oh well... "

"House..."

Shrugging, he gives her a wry smile as he removes a suture needle from its plastic packaging, crystal blue regarding irritable green intensely. He gives the broken flesh just above her skinny hipbone one final swipe with the antiseptic before leaning over her and going to work.

She is surprised at how long he takes to complete his task; years of standing by on various cases in which the graying doctor had been required to perform the same duty providing her with the knowledge that he is more than capable of getting the job done in half the time he currently takes. Lifting her head in an attempt to peer down at the area of concern, she grumbles as he immediately tells her to lie still without so much as glancing up at her.

"Patience... Just enjoy the fact that I'm working so close to the area that makes you scream-"

"- I do not-"

"-Moan then, I wouldn't know, we never got that far."

"Oh, shut up."

House grins, the young immunologist's grumbling pleasantly familiar, and the pull to her mouth as he slips the needle in and out of pale flesh not quite so painful to watch out of the corner of his eye as she engages in their old back and forth. He snips the surgical thread deftly once sure he's finished and rolls his eyes as Cameron mutters 'finally'.

She sits up to inspect the damage and raises an eyebrow in surprise but remains silent. They both know that she's pondering the time he has taken to finish his task and that the reasoning behind it is the meticulous care taken with each suture; his stitching complex but greatly reducing the amount of potential scarring.

"...Thank you"

"Don't mention it."

Cameron smiles at him and House offers her a gruff grunt.

"Did you drive?"

"Huh?"

"To work- sit down, I'm not helping you back up if you fall over- did you drive?"

"Yeah."

"Don't think it's the best plan to have you drive back... I'll take you home once I'm off the clock... You'll just have to leave your car here I guess-"

"-You don't have to-"

"-I know that, and don't be getting any ideas either, doctor, I just don't want to be on the road at the same time as a girl with no feeling in the leg which controls the brakes."

"Well... Thanks... Do you think you could grab me my file of paperwork if I'm going to be stuck here a while? I'll just get some of that done-"

"-Absolutely not. You have a chance to relax, I would consider myself a terrible role model should you be unable to take it!"

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his Gameboy and thrusts it onto her lap.

"You beat my best score and I'll buy you dinner."


	2. Chapter 2

By the time House finishes up his shift- knocking off the last twenty minutes or so for what he argues to be good behavior- his current patient is ready to be dispatched and his team has already packed up an left. Making his way down to the forever hectic ER, he hurries past the coughing and wounded to the thankful tranquility of the small examination room in which he had left his young ex-employee to wait out the after-effects of the local anesthetic.

_I suppose she's not even really 'young' anymore... She's all grown up and doing her own thing... _

He rolls his eyes as he recognizes this inner monologue to be uncharacteristically paternal towards the blonde, but adopts a small smirk when he turns from the white washed door to find Cameron lying curled up on her side upon the unyielding leather of the examination bed, her eyes closed and her lips slightly parted. Limping over quietly, his smirk widens into a full blown grin as he notes his Gameboy has been discarded upon the windowsill, and he's willing to bet just about anything she hasn't even turned it on.

"Typical."

His mirth falters slightly as he is faced with the realization that it lies with him to wake her, and there is something awkward within this simple task which he imagines has a lot to do with the untold number of accidental touches and lingering glances shared over her fellowship. Discarding such thoughts with a brisk shake of his head, he clears his throat loudly, prodding at her unceremoniously with his cane.

"Rise and shine, Cinderella."

"...You mean Sleeping Beauty..."

The blonde mumbles, rolling over onto her back with an awareness of the narrow bed which is curiously impressive. House smirks as he watches her rub sleepily at her eyes, silently noting the way she favors her left side, keeping her right arm close to her body.

"A little presumptuous of you, don't you think, Dr Cameron?... Vain, at best..."

"Cinderella wasn't the sleeping one..."

"Well, she must have slept at _some_ point."

"... Fine... Cinderella... Whatever makes you happy, House."

Pushing herself up so that she sits perched up on the bed, the young doctor regards him nakedly, having rubbed away the minimal hint of mascara applied early that morning. As always, when faced with familiar complicated green, House finds himself at a loss of just what to say, and so compensates by prodding at her dangling shins some more with his stick.

He imagines it is a sign of the times when all this gets him is the arch of a perfectly plucked brow.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, I just need to grab my stuff."

House nods as she lowers herself down tentatively, watching as she tests her weight on her right leg.

"Still feeling numb?"

"Not too bad, a bit tingly, but that's all."

"Enjoy the tingle it while it lasts."

Rolling her eyes, Cameron makes her way for the door; her gait only slightly hindered as she keeps one leg straighter than the other, and the graying doctor imagines he only notices due to his knowledge as to the events of the afternoon.

He refuses to entertain the fact that he notices simply because it's Cameron.

They make their way down the hallway in companionable silence, the hospital relatively quiet, bar the ER, due to the late hour. For this reason, House sees no qualm in following the blonde into the green-tiled locker room, in the same way their time spent together while under House's supervision has the younger doctor accepting this intrusion without word.

"You... uh... Need any help?"

His voice is gruff as he takes a seat on one of the long wooden benches that center the room, his back to Cameron as she goes about stripping off her bloodied clothes and changing into a fresh set of jeans and a simple black sweater from her locker.

"Dream on..."

The loftiness to her tone does little to hide the blush his inquiry garners, in fact, if anything, such out of character arrogance only serves to bring attention to her uneasy reaction. Chuckling, House swivels round to regard her as she dons a nondescript black jacket. Beckoning her over, he ignores the curious glance of a young nurse who enters the room, and edges up the soft wool of her sweater to check on the stark white patch of gauze strapped a little above the sharp peak of her hip bone. He pretends not to notice the way she holds her breath, and simply lowers black fabric back over pale flesh, content that the gauze remains pristine and free from blood.

"Ready?"

"...Yeah."

* * *

Waiting for Cameron to slip into the passenger side to his car- his bike at the shop fortuitously- House cranks up the heating, blowing dust off the infrequently used vents. He rarely feels the cold, a veteran to short sleeved t-shirts despite the often biting Jersey weather, but he acts on instinct, recalling the almost constant use of the office radiator while Cameron had worked beneath him. As if on cue, she shivers slightly and he rolls his eyes but resists making a sarcastic quip pertaining to her skinny build.

_I don't know why, but I think those were the ones that really got beneath her skin..._

"I was expecting you to be on your bike."

"Ah, I can only imagine the disappointment you must be feeling knowing that this trip is going to entail minimal bodily contact."

"Well I don't think we'd get very far if I sat in your lap."

House raises an eyebrow, her blase response to his sarcasm surprising him, and he reminds himself that she's had three years to feed off of his bleak humor.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained..."

She throws him a mischievous smile and he returns with a burlesque wink.

"So where are you taking me for dinner then?"

"The deal was you had to beat my best score for me to take you out."

House watches out of the corner of his eye as she sighs and shakes her head, grinning as she focuses her attention on the passing scenery.

"Oh alright, but only because I've always professed that you need feeding up. Buckle up, kid, things are about to get wild."

The blonde chuckles, rolling her eyes with ill-hidden amusement.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Still trying to figure out a definite direction to take this in, but hopefully some experimentation with their banter and character is fun to read too! Please comment, and I hope you enjoy! :)_

* * *

"Seriously..."

Cameron rolls her eyes with a sigh, but she fails to hide the twitch of amusement at the side of her mouth. Raising an eyebrow as the greying doctor turns to regard her with a roll of his own crystal blues, she simply shrugs when he asks her where she had imagined he would be taking her.

House pulls in to the parking lot- awash with the neon glow of fluorescent signs- and kills the engine.

"Cheap and easy..."

She imagines her ex-employer is just dying to finish this sentence with some small quip about her being the same, but, despite their banter throughout the day, it has been a while since she's spent this much time with him and she imagines it is this awkwardness rather than any consideration as to her feelings which keeps him from teasing her quite so ruthlessly.

"Are you insinuating something?"

Again, House looks to the blonde with mild surprise; wondering where in the hell his meek little girl has obtained such blasé sarcasm from all of a sudden. He almost asks her- although, of course, he plans to suggest this is a negative trait simply to irk her- but he's afraid that she'll actually have an answer.

He finds he falters when Cameron does not.

Offering her a mere grunt in response, he turns away and makes his way over towards the warmth of the all-night McDonalds looming over them, the blonde following him amiably enough.

Once inside, House inquires as to what the younger doctor wishes to order and tells her to go find a table, not that the place is packed in the slightest at this late hour.

He's just unsure what the hell to say to her.

When she proceeds to ask him what they serve, he turns to her with an incredulously raised brow, shaking his head and pulling at her wrist to walk her closer to the glaring billboards displaying salt bejewelled calories.

"What the hell do you mean, 'what kind of stuff do they have'? It's McDonalds!"

She shrugs, bright eyes scanning the boards apprehensively as she strives to find the least unappealing option.

"I guess I'll have a garden salad? And a soda?"

She reaches into her back pocket to pull out a small, folded collection of notes, but House waves his hand irritably and tells her to go sit down.

When he returns, the blonde rolls her eyes as the older doctor proceeds to dump a tray laden with fries and a burger before her unceremoniously.

"They ran out of salad."

"... Odd... I'd imagine it was one of the less popular choices..."

She smirks, before directing her gaze pointedly to the counter where a small artillery of greenery sits sweating beneath the harsh lights of the counter.

"Just eat."

House sighs, already halfway through his bacon and cheese, his mouth full as he grumbles at her. Watching as she tears open a small sachet of sauce with neat, white teeth, her can't help but smirk as she creates a neat little dipping pool at the very edge of the grease-spotted paper belonging to her unwrapped cheeseburger.

"Very pretty."

She offers him a long-suffering sigh, but her eyes sparkle as she reddens the end of one of her slightly anaemic looking fries and nibbles at it thoughtfully.

"Oh, god."

"What?"

"Are you seriously going to eat those one by one?"

"... Well, I could try the whole 'stuff as much as possible into my mouth; who cares about breathing' thing, but I'm afraid I'm not quite as skilled at this as you are..."

"You're such a girl."

"... Observant, you must be a doctor."

"Ah, but it's always best to double check these things; get a concise diagnosis..."

He waggles his eyebrows at her and the blonde groans, inwardly hoping the blush she feels creeping at her cheeks isn't painfully obvious.

"You're blushing."

"... Am I?"

"Which mean's you're either hiding something- perhaps taping it to your leg to keep it discreet- or you're imagining yourself spread eagle on an examination table while I-"

"- So how _did_ you get so adept at stuffing things into your mouth without gagging?"

"... Ooh, Dr Cameron, was that an oral sex implementation? Look at you with your big girl insults!"

Placing his hand over his heart with mocking pride, House grins as the young doctor glares at him. Deciding to quit while they're both ahead- and refusing to dwell on the fact that a greasy dinner with the injured young woman is so far proving to be much more successful than the disastrous date he'd agreed to all those years ago- House sits back and licks the salt from his fingers childishly, watching as the blonde picks at her food with little interest.

"I'm pretty sure these lovely people would like to go home at some point..."

She glances up at him in confusion and he points to the untouched burger and litter of fries rapidly cooling before her.

"I'm full."

"You barely ate anything!"

She offers him a warning glance and he sighs, leaning forward to pluck up the luke-warm cheese burger and taking a bite, chewing loudly. He watches with interest as she subconsciously wrinkles her nose at the sight.

"One little trip to McDonalds isn't going to have you struggling to squeeze your little ass into your slacks tomorrow."

"I know that, I'm just full."

The blonde's customary warmth suddenly drops by several degrees and House frowns, attempting to skate over what he knows to be a touchy subject- and yearns to know _why_- with sarcasm.

As is always the way.

"And besides, if you _were_ going to put on weight- which I'm all in favour of- the ER is the perfect place to be working! I have often wondered just what the differences are between scrubs and maternity pants..."

"Besides the colour?"

"Ah, I'm sure there are some women out there who rock the baby-pink... Looks alright on you..."

"... Yes... Well..."

Cameron sighs, hating herself for the small smile that threatens to alight her lips at such a weak compliment.

_But this is House... He could commend you on anything and you'd still be putty in his hands..._

She frowns, knowing this to be true and despising the fact.

"Something wrong?"

The greying doctor looks at her with genuine curiosity and she shrugs uncomfortably.

"No, just thinking..."

"Oh,_ that's_ what that disconcerted frown was for! Don't worry, it get's easier over time, Cameron."

Green eyes roll and blue orbs sparkle as House leans forward to steal a handful of fries.

"I did always wonder though..."

The greying doctor's tone is suddenly free from jovial teasing, and the blonde looks up at him curiously, sipping at the sweet fizz of her soda.

"About what?"

"About you."

"...What about me?"

"There's been two times you got angry with me... I mean _really_ angry, not just PMSing-"

"-Is PMSing code for having to deal with your constant shit on a daily basis?"

"... Two times that I wondered if you'd walk out. One of those times you did, if you remember?"

"Of course I remember... And I had every right to! You scape-goated me! You-"

"-Ah, I never said I disagreed with your actions... And, if you remember, I was willing to go quite some distance to get you back..."

"... You were."

"The other time... The other time you looked at me and I knew you weren't just pissed off, but you were _livid_... And not just livid... But upset too..."

"When was that? It sounds like after most differentials..."

"The little girl you were so sure was being abused- _one_ of the little girls you were so sure was being abused- back when the wombat was still sniffing after you... You made a comment as to how if menstruating could give you cancer that you should be in chemo at the time..."

"I remember..."

"And I said-"

"-You told me that was ridiculous as I was much too skinny to be menstruating..."

"I did... And you-"

"-And I got pissed because, believe it or not, it gets kind of tiring having people comment on your size all the damn time, especially your boss!"

"... Ah yes, I can see how that could be the case... Only, I teased you for so many _other_ things also... Worse things... And yet it was always the comments pertaining to weight that would get a rise out of you."

"... What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing. I imagine you'll say nothing. I was just curious..."

"You're_ always_ curious."

"And _you're_ always evasive."

"Yes, well, excuse me for not wanting to give you the ins on my life up until now... Sometimes there's just really nothing to it, House... I can only tell you that I have never had any complications or problems- it makes me less interesting, I know- with my weight, with my body, with my heath so many times... If you remain determined to believe otherwise... Well, that's your deal."

"Fair enough."

The blonde sighs, frustrated to have what had been a curiously enjoyable evening flawed so easily- so predictably- but she supposes she should expect such altercations between the two of them by now.

"... I don't like mayonnaise."

"...Okay... I don't-"

"-I didn't mention it the first time you brought me up a sandwich because I didn't want to be rude... After that, I felt like if I told you _then _that you would make fun of me for being so pathetic that first time... Nothing to do with wanting to be small- I just am- I just don't like it... Or food- particularly burgers- which have it in..."

"That... Is one of the saddest things I've ever heard!"

House confides gleefully, grinning as the blonde shakes her head in mock despair; inwardly thankful that the uncomfortable tension between them has been lifted.

_Somehow I imagine there's more to it, Dr Cameron, but to use your term of phrase... I guess that really is 'your deal'._

"So what else have you been lying to me about?"

"I wasn't lying-"

"- Oh your tongue is positively _dripping_ with sin- of multiple varieties, at least in my head- 'fess up!"

"Oh god..."

"Plain old 'House' will do just fine."

"You're impossible..."

"No, I'm improbable, if I were impossible then you would be sat here talking to yourself, lamenting society's use of mayonnaise."

She laughs huskily and he joins in- bright eyes trained on pretty white teeth and curiously intelligent bone structure- before realising just who he sits across from and how peculiar it should be that they are getting along in such a way. That he should be getting along with _anyone_ in such a way.

_Ah, but then Cameron was always the exception. Always the one you had a little bit of a-_

_No... Enough of that._

"Well, I'd better get Cinderella off home before she turns into a pumpkin."

"Cinderella didn't turn into a pumpkin..."

"Pity... That could have been the highlight of my diagnostics career"

"Or just a sure sign that you've finally lost it..."

She giggles, and House looks away, uncomfortable by just how much he is suddenly struck with the urge to ask her once again if she will consider coming back to work for him... After all... She is a brilliant doctor.

_And I miss her._

"Get your coat."

Hard, gruff, disinterested.

She regards him cautiously at this sudden change of tone, but says nothing, simply donning her jacket and pushing herself out from the table. The action is swift- automatic- and it is only when she receives a sharp bite to her side that she remembers the reason they are out together in the first place.

"Alright?"

Hard blue like winter ice trains critically on the hand which has moved to clutch at her side. She nods, offering him a smile that is just a little bit too wide as she surreptitiously attempts to deduce if she's ripped any stitches. She doesn't think she has- House's sutures intricate and flawless- but this in itself has her pondering just why a brief movement should cause such a sudden pain.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

Straightening up, she gives a nonchalant shrug and follows him out into the biting cold New Jersey air as they trudge towards his car, oblivious to the purple thunder seeping delicately beneath taut, pale flesh.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_I already answered this in a private message, but should probably clarify to avoid confusion. As previously mentioned, this fic won't involve Cameron and Chase's relationship in the later series. I treated it how I wished it would have gone on the show, which is that Cameron never ended up going back to Chase's at the end of the third season and agreeing to a serious relationship. So far as this story is concerned everything prior to that, ie; casual sex, Chase liking Cameron, the 'it's Tuesday, I like you' conversations _did_ all take place, they just never amounted to anything, leaving them just with their initial friendship. Phew, I hope I explained that alright!? As always, enjoy, and please comment! :)_

* * *

"You did _what_?!"

Wilson cries, his eyebrows in danger of disappearing into his hairline. House grumbles at the gleeful lilt to his friend's voice, eyes trained on the ball spinning before him on the desk as he repeats himself irritably.

"I took her out for dinner."

""Oh, House, after _everything_, are you sure that's really the best plan? To start taking Cameron out on-"

"-I'm not _starting to do_ anything. I drove her home and she said she wanted food, that's all there is to it."

"...That's never all there is to it with you..._ Or_ her."

"Fine, fine, if you_ must_ know; we waited for the lovely waitstaff of that ever prestigious establishment to look away and then I pulled her into the disabled toilets and we-"

"-House! God, please stop!"

The oncologist begs, his eyes alight with good humor. Leaning back in his chair and steeping his fingers beneath his chin thoughtfully, he continues in a more serious tone.

"I'm just glad she's alright... Must have been pretty frightening for her."

"Well, you know Cameron.

"Not all that well..."

"She can hold her own, despite what the itsy bitsy proportions and hooker-blonde hair tell you."

"Oh, please, you were practically _drooling_ when you saw her when she came back-"

"- Well, she reminded me an awful lot of a young pole dancer named Lacey who I-"

"- Who you nothing."

"Whatever. Cameron's fine, that's the main thing."

"And yet, why do I sense you're ever so slightly disappointed there's no need for a few diagnostic tests to confirm that?"

"I'd enjoy sticking needles in my ex fellow?"

"You'd get to spend more time with her..."

"I'm still relishing the fact I got rid of her!"

"You _didn't_ get rid of her; she quit."

"Best thing that's ever happened to me!"

"...Is this little act for _my_ benefit, because I doubt you're even fooling yourself..."

House rolls his eyes, placing the ball back on its stand and regarding his friend levelly.

"It was time for a change... If it had just been Cameron left over and myself... She needed to go, and she knew that. If she hadn't given in her resignation, I would have had to _make_ her do so."

"You wouldn't have fired her. Not Cameron."

"...No. Which is why I'm glad she was smart enough to walk out of her own accord."

"And the others?"

"No regrets."

"Didn't think so."

"... Anyway. Whatever... Quit trying to psychoanalyze me... Do you think I have a shot with Thirteen?"

"Not all of your protegees are quite so enamored with crippled, age-inappropriate men."

"... You're right; I have a much better chance with Kutner."

* * *

"Is Dr Cameron about?"

"Allison's not come in yet; reckon she might be sick."

The harried nurse quips over her shoulder as Wilson moves quickly out the way of an oncoming orderly.

"Sick?"

The oncologist's brow furrows, deeming the blonde to be ill enough to skip work highly unlikely. Hell, the girl had refused to take the day off despite a damn HIV scare...

"Probably. Don't know. Wouldn't blame her for taking the day off; things got pretty nasty with a patient in here yesterday-"

"-Yes, I heard about that-"

"-She's not here though, and believe me, I'd know! We could do with an extra set of hands!"

"Alright, thanks Nancy."

Nodding his farewell, Wilson frowns as he goes of in search of one of the hospital's other immunology specialists with his patient's case file, making a mental note to inform House of the young blonde's absence.

* * *

"Shit."

Cameron grumbles, lowering herself carefully into the empty bathtub and hissing through her teeth at the biting chill of enamel on flesh. Resting with her back against the gentle slope of the bath, she frowns as she looks down on the dark bruising emanating from below blood-soaked gauze. Gritting her teeth, she plucks gently at the tape holding the patch in place and peels it aside with a sharp intake of breath.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it..."

Touching the raw flesh surrounding black sutures with a grimace, she groans as she confirms her suspicion that several of the neat little stitches have been torn away with her movements the previous evening. This does little to appease the disconcerting feeling plaguing her since early this morning however, as it doesn't serve to explain the deep bruising livid beneath pale flesh.

"Didn't nick anything vital for survival... "

She wipes at her forehead with the back of her hand, her flesh clammy since awaking this morning and her head woozy. She is aware that the most sensical solution to her current predicament would be to contact the hospital and get herself looked at, but she is unable to shake her pride which continues to admonish her with 'you're a goddamned doctor; act like one.'

That, and she doesn't want House to find out.

Doesn't want to be his fragile little girl once again.

"Suck it up, Allie."

Reaching for the first of the implements gleaming sharply at the side of the tub, she hovers the scalpel tentatively over House's neat, regimented sutures before biting her lip and snipping them cleanly away.

"Well, that was the worst part, surely..."

Her breath comes out in short, strained pants, and she scolds herself irritably as her slim frame quakes with them. Wiggling her fingers in their sterile latex gloves, she proceeds to place her index fingers on either side of the open incision and pull the flesh ever so slightly apart.

"Come on, come on, you're fine, you're all good."

Applying just a little more pressure, she inspects the damaged tissue critically, brow furrowed as blood trickles lazily down her hip and begins to drip methodically against the stark white enamel.

"Oh, hush..."

Shaking a little, she grabs the small penlight resting beside her and twists the end to ignite its strong, narrow beam of light. Clenching it between her teeth, she leans forward, eyes watering as a sharp pain bites ruthlessly at her side.

"No... no, no, no"

Her words muffled by the metal of the penlight, she shakes her head in frustration, almost sure she understands just what the problem is. Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath, aware that her knees are shaking against the cool sides of the tub and that her position is spilling scarlet blood down her stomach to soak into the gray cotton of her underwear. Forcing herself to continue with her- albeit primitive- examination, she pulls at broken flesh once more, staining the tips of her gloves maroon.

"Crap."

Resting her head back against the tiled surface surrounding the bath, she lets out a sigh of frustration, wondering why in the hell bad things happen to good people. She is frustrated; sure that- whilst not nicking anything vital to her survival- the scalpel _has_ nicked her ovarian artery. She doesn't believe the artery to be severed, as such trauma would have been obvious to both herself and House when the graying doctor had come to her aid, but she suffers serious apprehension due to the lividity of the bruising surrounding the incision.

Using the scalpel to carefully remove the broken stitches altogether- deciding she'll have to redo them while figuring out just what to do- she jumps as a loud knock echos through her apartment.

"_Ah!_"

Eyes widening as the lazy trickle seeping lethargically down her pale flesh turns suddenly dark and fast, she shakes her head in childish denial as fresh blood spills crudely over the fingers she presses instinctively to the wound.

"Honey! You home?!"

Chase's thick accent comes as a muffled drone as he knocks out another little rhythm on the peeling paint of her front door. Looking down at the gore painting her gloves and deciding this takes presidence over the fact that she sits in just her underwear, she calls out, her voice breaking a little as she struggles to raise it enough to be heard by her ex-colleague.

"Chase! It's open! I... I can't... Please!"

Holding her breath, she waits nervously as silence succeeds her plea, before she makes out the telling click of the front door to her apartment being pushed open.

"Allison?"

"In the bathroom."

"Uh..."

"I think... I think you might need to call an ambulance..."

Brow furrowing, the young surgeon hurries towards the blonde's bathroom; the door cracked open just enough to make out a sliver of light."

"Cam, what the hell are you... Shit."


	5. Chapter 5

_"Cam, what the hell are you... Shit."_

Staring down at the blonde as she bites her lip with her hand pressed to her side- her glove streaked with unmistakable scarlet and her complexion pale- Chase freezes for a moment in sheer shock, before snapping out of it and falling down to kneel beside the tub. He wrestles himself out of his jacket and folds one of the sleeves hurriedly, moving the young doctor's trembling fingers out of the way and pressing the fabric to her wound.

Hardly the most hygienic of compresses, but it will do for now.

"What the hell happened?!"

"I don't know... You knocked and I jumped, and I guess- I think the scalpel slipped and I- I don't-"

"What where you doing with a damn scalpel in the first place?! _Jesus_, Cameron! Come on, come here-"

Grabbing the blonde's arm and draping it over his shoulders, Chase helps her clumsily from the bath, trying his best to ignore the splashes of crimson smeared up the hatefully white enamel of the tub in a way which inexplicably has him thinking of a slaughter house.

_Doctor or not, when it's the people you know... You're never immune to raw emotion. _

He guides her with some difficulty from the bathroom and over to her couch in the living room; imagining she will later have to replace the cream throw on which he places her, but deciding she can worry about that some other time.

Preferably at a time when she no longer bleeds quite so profusely.

Taking a seat next to her and keeping the drenched sleeve of his jacket pressed firmly to her skinny hip, the surgeon fishes his phone out of his jeans pocket- silently lamenting the way this unseasonably warm evening has taken such a turn; his original intention being to share a drink or two with the young immunologist at their local bar- and dials for an ambulance.

He informs the faceless voice on the receiving end of the younger doctor's injury, instructing that Cameron be taken to Princeton Plainsboro. He frowns as the blonde shakes her head distractedly- muttering something about Jersey General- and hangs up after confirming an ambulance to be on its way.

"No, no, I need to go to General, I don't want to-"

"-What? Why? Cameron, what were you_ doing_?!"

Chase's eyes are wide and the blonde comes to the slow realization that he has unlikely been clued in on the events of the previous day. This notion is confirmed by the protective grip around her shoulders and she sighs as she wonders when in the hell the boys- _her_ boys- will quit treating her like their goddamned broken princess.

_Come on, Chase, give me a _little_ credit. If I'd done this on purpose I'd hardly have invited you in to relish the aftermath._

"...A guy got me in the side yesterday with a scalpel in the ER and-"

"He _what_?! Why didn't you _tell_ me?!"

"...Well... I haven't_ seen_ you, why would I?"

"...A guy stabs you in the side and you didn't get it looked at?! _Allison_! He could have punctured your kidney or-"

"- Yes,_ thank you_, I have a medical doctorate with my name written all prettily across it just like you... House checked me out and patched me up-"

"House 'patched you up'?"

"Well, he was down in the ER at the time so he just took me into one of the exam rooms..."

"But then what-"

"-It was fine last night, I mean, it hurt a _little_, but he'd stitched me up and it seemed like it was all okay... I woke up this morning and the gauze was saturated, and I saw the bruising and... I was trying to check it out-"

"-Cameron!-"

"-Look! I just didn't want to have to go back and sound like I was complaining, or-"

"What, and tell House he messed up you mean? You'd rather dissect yourself in the damned_ bathtub_ then rub the _good doctor_ up the wrong way? You-"

"-He didn't mess up-"

"- _Oh, for god's sake_! You-"

"-In case you'd _forgotten_; I'm a doctor, and _I_ didn't think it was anything more than a flesh wound _either.._. Whatever, okay, there's clearly some internal bleeding, and I assume its source could be a nick to the ovarian artery given the area and dispersal of the bruising and-"

"-And you're an idiot for trying to sort this out by yourself..."

Cameron scowls at him, the effect diminished somewhat by the thin sheen of perspiration that stands out at her forehead and the shallowness of her breath. Recognizing Chase's words as a simple statement, she sighs and rests her head back against the sofa.

"I guess so."

Matching her sigh with a slightly more humorous one of his own, the surgeon gives skinny shoulders a squeeze before relinquishing the task of pressing sodden material to pale flesh in favor of the blonde's trembling fingers, moving from the couch to her bedroom to find her something to wear.

"What are you doing?"

The blond grins at the irritable note in the younger doctor's voice, calling back over his shoulder

"Panty raid!"

"Pretty sure you've_ seen_ my more interesting sets..."

Rolling his eyes at Cameron's choked attempt at a blase response, he forgoes the top drawers of her dresser altogether, searching instead for a loose jersey or cardigan and some sweatpants; feeling a little odd going through his ex-colleague's things despite their jocular back and forth.

_Not that I have a _clue_ what she usually pairs with what..._

Settling for some dark gray yoga pants, he pulls out a large navy hoodie that zips up the front. He experiences an odd surge of emotion as he throws this latter item onto the bed; its size a pretty good indicator that it once belonged to a member of the opposite sex. It's not that he hasn't accepted the idea that the blonde has moved on- not that, in _her_ eyes, there had been much to 'move on' _from_- and must be sexually active, it's just that he is rarely recquired to think on it; Cameron not one to regale those around her with tales of what little social life she has.

_And that's perfectly fine by me._

Giving up on the hunt for a matching pair of socks- a little surprised that she hasn't got them all paired together in their respective drawer- he pinches two of a similar dark color and carries his spoils out into the living room.

"You, uh, need any help?"

The blonde blinks in surprise, disconcertingly reminded of House asking her the same question, but she supposes in some ways it's a good thing that it is Chase of all people to find her; she has less of a wall up around him.

_I suppose once someone's seen you naked, they might as well help you get your socks on if needs must..._

The thought amuses her and she chuckles to herself, the surgeon regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

"Something funny?"

"No, I guess I'm just a little light headed or whatever."

Shrugging, she gingerly dons the proffered outfit, Chase helping her here and there, grinning as the blonde lets out several frustrated sighs when unable to move with the agility she'd like.

"Ever the perfectionist."

"Shut up."

* * *

"I thought you said it wasn't bad?"

"I did, and I one _hundred_ percent stand by that statement... What are we talking about?"

House raises an eyebrow as the oncologist takes a seat opposite him at one of the small booths in the lunch hall, stealing a half of the meatball sub steaming on Wilson's plate.

"Cameron, the cut to her side."

"... It wasn't."

House shrugs disinterestedly, causing his friend to frown as he continues to muse.

"I guess she just needed time to get her head around it then... Unless she actually _is_ ill of course..."

"What are you muttering about?"

"No, nothing, I went down to the ER because I had some odd cell counts when we ran an allergy test on my patient and I wanted to get Cameron to look at them for me. She wasn't around and Nancy said she'd not shown up yet. I wondered if she'd got cut worse than I thought, but-"

"-She's not at work?"

"She wasn't when I checked."

"... Well, as you said... She might be sick."

House offers no further comment on the subject, simply looking down at his commandeered sandwich pensively. Recognising that they have reached the end of whatever discussion there is to be had as to the blonde's health, Wilson adopts a new topic of just how likely it is that the new receptionist in Peeds was, at one point, in possession of male genitalia.

And perhaps still is.

* * *

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!"

House yells as he throws yet another piece of gravel against the small window to the left of the large apartment building he knows to be Cameron's. He has already attempted the intercom at her front door, but received no answer. Frowning as he spots her car in its designated space, and pairing this with the dusky glow of tungsten emanating from her room, he limps back over to the front entrance and presses all six of the resident buzzers.

"Yes?"

Drawing a momentary blank at the age-cracked voice which hails him from the grime encrusted speaker, he continues cautiously

"I seem to have lost my front door key, I-"

Raising his eyebrow when a telling buzz sounds loudly from the small intercom box, and wonders if he should inform Cameron of just how easily she might get broken into. He imagines he probably shouldn't; the blonde likely to adopt yet more anal habits than she already partakes in.

Traipsing up to her apartment, House mutters irritably at his internal monologue that continues to demand an answer as to just what in the hell he thinks he's doing here.

_I can barely stand her when she's _healthy_... Why on earth would I want to go witness the _un_healthy version?_

Somehow, he finds the idea of the young immunologist clad in pyjamas and sporting a thermos of chicken soup both amusing and ludicrous.

_I'd imagine her immune system would be too afraid of the wrath of her mind to fall so averagly below par._

That said... The idea of him- of Dr House- checking up on any of his protégés, hell, _ex_-protégés, is ludicrous also.

_But what if you missed something..._

Impossible. He's House.

Coming to a stop outside her door, he ponders the cream lacquer- just starting to peel around the handle- pensively, before raising a fist and knocking loudly.

"Come on, Cameron, I know you're home..."

He is surprised that she hasn't answered his attempts to contact her so far; not thinking the blonde to be the sort to relish such a trivial game of hide and seek.

"Let me in or I'm using your spare key..."

receiving no response, he rolls his eyes, pulls his shirt sleeve over his hand and reaches up clumsily to paw at the ledge of her door frame, smiling at the small clunk as silver falls to land on the worn hallway carpet.

_Always predictable. _

"I'm coming in! This better not be some weird sex thing! I swear, doctor, if I find you on all fours, wearing nothing but a-"

But his jovial mockery peters into silence as, upon opening her apartment door, he is met with nothing but eery silence.

"Cameron?"

His frown deepens; clocking the blonde's black leather jacket hung neatly over one of her kitchen chairs and her satchel resting patiently on the floor beside it. Making his way slowly to her bedroom, he stands in the doorway with growing confusion as he notes the way her dresser stands pulled open in disarray; several socks and a white tank top littering the floor.

"Allison?"

Her first name feels foreign on his tongue as he calls out with his brow furrowed, but he has run out of ways in which to use her last name without yelling at her angrily to quit fucking around already.

Limping irritably back into the living room, he uses his cane to smack open her bathroom door for good measure, despite being certain he has the place to himself. Pausing as something catches his eye, he frowns, before crossing the threshold into the small, neatly tiled room and dropping his cane with a loud clatter.

"What...?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **_Just thought I should point out; I don't really like doing 'before' and 'later' etc chapters, but, so that the time frame of this makes sense; when House was telling Wilson about taking Cameron for dinner in the previous chapter, Chase was already at Cameron's apartment. Just as far as the timing of her being in hospital goes, as I think it probably seems like this all happened over the space of an hour or so, but it's longer than that. Hopefully that makes sense. As always, please enjoy, and please please please review! :)_

* * *

Grabbing at the sink for support, House absentmindedly acknowledges its peculiar placement to be the reason he remains on his feet as he continues to stare down at the mess coating the blonde's bathtub. Deep maroon splashes- some sickeningly smeared and streaked- create a stark contrast to the white of the tub, and, despite all of his years of medical practice, there is something about the way that the four smudges of scarlet to the rim of the tub- something about the way that they look almost like the left overs of a handprint, _Cameron's_ handprint- which has him swallowing thickly as he rubs anxiously at his stubble.

_What the hell have you done?_

He is unsure whether such words are directed at the young immunologist or at himself; suddenly accosted with the internal demand to know how he could have been so damned _stupid_ to leave her all on her own after the events of the previous day.

_It _wasn't_ stupid, she was fine, she said so herself!_

_Yes, and we all _know_ how forthcoming Cameron can be about pain and personal issues..._

_But she _was_ fine, it was just a nick, just a_ cut_... A _deep_ cut, sure, but nothing worth hanging around for..._

"Cameron!"

Stumbling from the bathroom, the graying doctor hurries back to the blonde's bedroom, circling the modest double bed and checking her closet. It's not that he imagines the young doctor to be hiding, he just doesn't think the civil decency to collapse in plain view would have been paramount in her train of thought. Coming up empty and limping into the living room, he checks behind her kitchen island, the little nook where she keeps her vacuum cleaner and ironing board, and behind her sofa.

Pausing as he circles the sofa, he plucks at stained wool with clenched teeth, the blood dark and dried, but no more preferable for it. Falling heavily onto the sofa, House tugs at his lip distractedly; at a complete loss of where the blonde could have got to.

And trying both to gauge and to deny the state _she_ must be in given the state of her apartment.

"Where in the hell are you?!"

He mutters, pulling out his phone and dialing her number. He had tried to call her back at the hospital- readying some disdainful excuse for doing so, lest she think he was simply checking to see if she was alright- but received no answer. Now, as the dial tone heralds him from the useless hunk of plastic in his hand, he frowns as he makes out a telling hum coming from her bedroom.

"_Fuck!_"

And just like that, his phone smashes into several smaller pieces as he hurls it at her front door. Sighing at the useless remains of his anger, he supposes it would make sense for the blonde to have called for help given the amount of blood staining her tub.

Not that the young doctor has always made all that much sense.

_What the hell happened, Cameron?... _

_Why didn't you call me?_

_... You wouldn't have answered..._

Hating the truth in this last notion, he pushes himself from the sofa and limps defeatedly towards the young doctor's bedroom, deciding to hunt out her phone with the intent to call the hospital.

Spotting a small Nokia charging on a neat little bedside, House settles onto the dull, gray cotton of Cameron's bedspread and brings it to life.

Two missed calls; his, and one from one Nancy Pierce.

Miss I-Can't-Stand-The-Sight-Of-Blood-But-I'm-A-Doctor. 

Two text messages; one from Chase asking if she has plans, one from Dominic.

'_What do you mean it wasn't the best day at work? Everything ok?-'_

Friend? More than that?

_'- BTW, are you coming down for Mindy's birthday or shall I just tell dad already that you're too busy? As always. Every year.'_

Brother.

Resisting the urge to scroll through previous messages- Cameron's private and family life something she has forever kept suspiciously close to her chest- he scrolls through her contacts with a frown, before realizing the reason he can't find Cuddy's details is due to the fact that the blonde probably hasn't saved her number under 'Party Pants'.

Scrolling back up to 'L', House jumps and fumbles with the phone at a sudden thud from the other room. Frowning and plucking his cane from the bed, he moves quietly, limping towards the source of the noise.

"Cameron?!"

The blonde lets out an uninhibited scream as she drops her coat and raises her hands in what is presumably supposed to resemble some form of defense. Catching her breath back, she glowers at the graying doctor nervously, leaning on the backrest of one of the chairs surrounding her table for support.

"What the _hell_, House!?"

"'What the hell'?! I should be asking you the same question! I come over here and you're nowhere to be found and it looks like you've been slaughtering cute little woodland animals in your bathroom! I-"

"- I didn't answer the door so you _broke in_?!"

"I... I don't know why you're_ surprised_..."

House shrugs irritably, his expression purposefully disinterested, but he allows his eyes to roam baggy fabric and chalky features as the blonde shakes her head with a groan and picks her coat up off the floor. Noting the ungainly, tentative way she goes about doing so, House sighs and moves towards the table, pulling out a chair and pointing to it.

"Sit."

"I'm not a child..."

She grumbles, but she does as she's told, the fatigue of the day overshadowing her irritation at her old boss. Sitting back and regarding House quietly as the older doctor takes a seat opposite her, she sighs when he seems suddenly more interested in the grain of the wood gracing the table rather than herself.

"What are you doing here?"

"Wilson said you weren't at work when he tried to find you."

"He needed me?"

Looking up and noting the concern written across the younger doctor's face, House rolls his eyes.

"We're talking about _you_, remember?"

"Actually, I thought we were talking about _you_ and why you broke into my house..."

"I wanted to finish what the guy in the ER started?"

Cameron chuckles weakly at this, and House swiftly reprimands the small voice in his head that pipes up merrily that she will always be the one to 'get' his bleak humour... Whether she always appreciates it or not is another thing.

"Actually... It looks like _you_ tried to finish what the guy in the ER started...?"

"When I woke up the dressing was soaked through and there was a lot of bruising... I recognized it for internal bleeding and tried to figure out what-"

"- You idiot!"

"I wish people would stop calling me that..."

"Well you are... It sounds like something _I_ would do."

"Well... I learnt from the best."

"Ah, flattery will get you nowhere! What-"

"- Chase came by to see if I was free for drinks and I figured I'd done all the damage I was willing to do... Went to the hospital, got myself sorted again- this time with some additional internal work- and... Good as new."

She smiles, and House fights the urge to demand she stop doing so as the effect only serves to exaggerate the pallor to her skin and the tiredness in her eyes.

"Hardly."

"...Hmm... Rude."

Shrugging, the older doctor pushes himself from the chair, suddenly wishing to get as far away from the young blonde as possible.

She is fine. She will be fine. He has no reason to stay.

_But what if she hadn't been... _

"I'm going to go. All this breaking and entering has got me beat."

"So wait, you broke into my house and you didn't even _want_ anything?"

House regards the blonde levelly, taking in the slight twitch to the side of her mouth and suddenly willing to bet anything that she's playing him.

Trying to get him to admit he had been worried about her.

"You were MIA, I wanted to solve the mystery."

"Uhuh... And your phone?"

She points to the fractured remnants scattered across the floor and he silently damns her for the sharpness of her mind despite her condition.

_But then, isn't that a huge part of her appeal?_

_What appeal?_

_Hmm... Smooth. _

"Dropped it."

"Uhuh..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"What?"

"That noise; 'uhuh', why the doubt?"

"...Nothing... "

Grunting in response, House nods and places his hand on the doorknob.

"You know, you could always stay around and help me cook..."

Raising an eyebrow, he looks first to the blonde and then down to his hand resting so tantalizingly on his means of escape.

"I, uh, my cooking's not-"

"House, relax, I'm not trying to jump you. I just don't think I can reach the plates is all."

"_Ah_, so you need the help of a big, strong man, Dr Cameron?"

"Well, that _would_ be preferable, but I suppose I'll settle for_ you_ as you're here..."

"Want me to spit in your dinner?"

"I think I'll pass... But let's start with drinks before things get too crazy."

"... Perhaps I was wrong about you..."

"Oh, shut up. Top cabinet, whatever you like, mine's a gin and tonic. Glasses are above the sink."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Apologies for the wait with this fic. I'm currently struggling with it quite a bit as I have no real storyline planned and had wanted to make this a longer story. Any word prompts if anyone does have a scene/ plot they'd like to see are always appreciated :) Please review!_

* * *

"I'm making an executive decision."

"Really? What's that?"

The blonde raises an eyebrow, but her expression remains otherwise serene and a small smile sits contently at her lips.

House supposes this may be one of the reasons he feels the need to put a stop to the way things are headed; before they get out of control.

_You mean before they get too pleasant..._

He has spent the better part of the evening with his backside resting against the modest countertops that line her kitchenette while watching her go cautiously about making them dinner, moving every now and then to reach for anything on a higher shelf. She hasn't had to ask him to do so, he has just observed her casually, handing her the salt, the plates, the dried basil without any verbal request. Her tentative movements have intrigued him; every now and then expecting her to retire to the comfort of the chairs waiting patiently at her kitchen table with the exhausted plea that he continue her mission to feed them, but he supposes it stands true to character that she has created a fresh putanesca sauce from scratch despite the noticeable sensitivity to her side.

He has tried to brush off the few bumps of her hip against his while moving within the narrow space between stove and countertop, much as his long fingers brushing her side have been purely in the interests of navigating around her small form in order to lean delinquently out of her way.

Now, offering Cameron a small grunt, he reaches across their empty plates- only the faintest smears of pasta sauce visible on either one- and plucks the half empty wine bottle from its place beside her fork.

"No more of the good stuff for you."

She sighs, resisting the childish urge to present him with a mocking pout, her eyes glittering as she watches him take a greedy swig from the bottle and wipe his mouth dramatically with the back of his hand.

"Uh... You realise this is my apartment, right?"

Her tone is irritable, but he knows better than to take any notice. For one, he has little interest in her mood-swings, for another, it's Cameron; she'll never truly begrudge him anything.

_You shouldn't take advantage of that little notion... What if one day she proves you wrong?_

Impossible.

_And even if I_ were_ wrong- which I'm _not-_ what would it matter? It's not as though I care what she thinks..._

The graying doctor simply shrugs in response to his ex-colleague's bitter inquisition, but his expression softens slightly when she continues to regard him cooly.

"I trust I don't need to explain the ramifications of combining alcohol with painkillers, Dr Cameron?"

"I've had one glass!"

"And a gin and tonic, which is plenty."

She sighs as he smirks at her with smug superiority but doesn't argue back; feeling inexplicably flushed that he should look out for her in such a way- even if just for his own amusement- and deciding she doesn't wish to ruin the moment.

She can always rely on House to do that.

"So who's Mindy?"

"Who?"

"That's what I was asking_ you_? Who is she and why do you hate her?"

"...I don't know who-"

"- At least, good ol' _Dom_ seems to think you do."

"...Dom?... _Dominic_?! How do you-"

"- Passcode on your phone, Cameron; rule 101."

"What the_ hell_?! You snooped-"

"-I did nothing of the sort, the message was simply on the screen when I opened it up."

"Why would you do _that_?!"

"Well, after the little accident incurred by mine, I was simply being resourceful!"

"You had no right to use my phone!"

"Well, it's a little later to bicker about that _now._.. So... Who is she?"

Sighing, the blonde sits back in her chair; the fact that her hand moves to rest at her hip not going unnoticed by the older doctor. Nor the way her eyes linger longingly on the bottle.

Despite his earlier warning, House leans over and tops her glass up with a few fingers of merlot, his eyebrow raised in question.

Curiosity killed the cat.

"My step mom."

Cameron shrugs as though bored by the topic, but the tick at her jaw does little to aid her plight in this little pantomime.

House remains silent; knowing she will continue unless goaded.

"She married my dad when I was two. I don't hate her, I just don't... We don't get on. She's Dominic's mother."

The greying doctor frowns, rubbing at his scruffy jaw pensively.

"I knew you had a brother, but I was under the impression he was older than you."

"He is."

"... I may only be a doctor, but something doesn't add up there?"

"How observant of you. Almost as observant as my teachers were, and the girls' at schools mothers were on the topic."

"Ah."

"Mindy's not a bad person-"

"- You say that about _everyone_-"

"- She could have put her foot down about dad taking me in and she didn't... But... Okay, so all the things you said to me when I asked you why you hired me... All that crap... Well, Mindy was of a similar opinion, only in_ her_ eyes, the fact that I 'buried myself beneath books in the plight to become a socially inept know-it-all' was more of a negative thing. In fact, she took it pretty personally... She's a pageant coach."

"The world peace stuff didn't appeal to you? You surprise me."

"Oh, it does. Vapid girls getting herded up on stage just to say those empty words, however, does not. Also, I didn't have any _talent_ as I was frequently reminded, so I guess it was a case of failure from the very beginning... Who knew being pretty could be such hard work?"

Cameron laughs lightly at this, but it is a harsh sound, and House watches her intently over steepled fingers.

"And now?"

"What do you mean 'and now'?"

"Now that you're not a little girl in a pretty garish frock, but a student of medicine who has worked beneath a man of myth, a man of _legend,_ is she-"

"- Is she happy for me? Is that what you want to know? Is she proud of me?"

"...Well?"

"I don't know... It's hard to tell really because most of the time I see her she's a little preoccupied with fretting over the fact I remain unwed... And I'm almost _thirty_!"

The blonde opens her mouth in mock horror at this and House rolls his eyes, absently noting the way her lips are tinged slightly purple from the wine.

He imagines her tongue is too.

Sighing uncomfortably, he wonders if he is required to comment on what the younger doctor has just divulged to him. If so, he has no idea what to say; adept at cutting sarcasm, but suffering from the strange notion that now is perhaps not the time.

He decides to just go with what he knows.

"Actually, you're closer to twenty-five."

"... I'm sorry?"

"If we're rounding your age; you're closer to twenty-five."

"I'm twenty-seven."

"Yes, but it would be rounded up to thirty at twenty-seven and a half. It's only June."

She does some quick math, telling herself she shouldn't be so surprised that he knows when her birthday is. He would never _congratulate_ her, but he knows. Of course he knows.

"Oh good, that still leaves me some time then!"

House chuckles dryly at the mocked sincerity of her words, watching as she tips back the last of her wine.

"Lock up your sons and daughters, Allison Cameron's on the prowl!"

She almost chokes on her wine at this, glaring at him accusingly through watering eyes as she attempts to reign in her coughing laughter.

"House!"

He smirks wickedly, though his eyes flash down to her hand once more as she holds it to her side.

"I should leave; evidently I provide far too much comedy for one still healing... And you should get some sleep."

She rolls her eyes and pushes herself up carefully, stacking their plates and bringing them over to the sink to soak while House slips away to empty his bladder before he leaves.

* * *

Red.

Red.

Red.

It's not that he had forgotten the macabre scene in her bathroom, but when he switches on the harsh white lights his breath still comes in a sharp gasp.

_Things could have gone so wrong..._

_If Chase hadn't-_

_- If Chase hadn't stopped by, she would have called the hospital; she's not an idiot._

Eyes flickering to the stained silver of the scalpel which sits forlorn against a streak of crimson have him begging to differ.

Despite preferring to do his business sitting down when in the privacy of the bathroom, he opts to stand.

This way he can turn his back to the tub and its hateful offering.

Zipping up and flushing, he limps back into the kitchen to find Cameron wiping down the countertops; long hair tumbling over the excessive folds in the hoody much too large for her.

"I'm going to go."

"Alright. Thanks for helping with dinner."

"Do you mean eating it? Because the cooking was all you."

"Ah, but I would have been plateless."

She smiles brightly, and he finds his mouth working of its own accord before he can stop it.

"Call me if you need to..."

The beat of silence she leaves before answering only serves to make things worse.

"... Thanks... Have a good night."

Offering a curt nod, the greying doctor slips quickly from her apartment.

Before he can say anything else moronic.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_Sorry for the wait on this fic! I'll try my best to be a little more consistent and fair with my uploads from now on! Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far, and YES I am continuing with this, but I can understand how that could be hard to tell given as I've left House and his lot in limbo for over a month! Oops. Hope you enjoy, and please review! :)_

* * *

As they stroll through the bustling hallway towards the elevator, House keeps quiet about his previous evening spent at the blonde's apartment; not wanting to discuss the matter with Wilson. As it is, the oncologist is full of tales about his own evening and he regales with a venom the greying doctor knows to take with a pinch of salt the story of how his ex-wife had deemed it entirely appropriate to show up for dinner unannounced. Slipping in a few sarcastic comments here and there, House nods along without really listening, peeking stealthily through the glass doors to the ER as they pass; curious to see whether Cameron has come into work today.

Yes. Of course she has.

He is careful not to linger, simply taking note of pretty blonde curls and the pink flash of her scrubs. She has her back to the door, standing between a dark haired man in a lab coat and a stout young nurse, but, despite ditching the brunette waves she had shown preference when beneath his wing, he recognises her instantly.

Something in the way she stands perhaps.

House is sly in his observation, and Wilson remains oblivious; bidding his friend farewell as they reach the elevator and the taller man presses the button deftly with the tip of his cane. None the wiser as to House's uncharacteristically sociable home visit.

* * *

Cameron is a little less secretive.

The oncologist smiles as he spots the young doctor sat by herself in one of the booths at the far end of the lunch hall. For the blonde to be found dining alone is not uncommon; the pretty immunologist well liked by her team in the ER, but a woman perfectly at home with her own company. Wilson imagines it is for this reason she had so often simply spent her free time in the office, methodically trawling through paperwork when she had worked for House, rather than frequent the bustling food court.

Well. One of the reasons.

Clearing his throat politely before slipping into the bench opposite her, he returns her predictably sunny smile with his own and points to the sandwich that sits barely touched on her plate.

"Mayonnaise?"

"Yeah."

"You know you can ask for it without, right?"

"I did, but, you know... They're busy, and I guess so many people are asking for different things..."

She shrugs, and the oncologist grins as what little he knows about Cameron is so irrefutably predictable it borders on amusing.

"And you didn't want to cause a fuss..."

"No."

Rolling his eyes amiably, Wilson offers her the apple from his own tray- an impulsive buy in a vague attempt towards his five a day- and she plucks it up with a smile; white teeth sinking into scarlet flesh.

"Chips and an apple; a meal fit for a Queen."

He muses, glancing at the empty packet of Doritos folded neatly beside her plate.

"Just what the doctor ordered."

She chuckles as he groans at her pitiful attempt at comedy, nodding when he gestures inquisitively towards her unwanted sandwich.

"Speaking of which, how are you doing? House told me what happened."

"Not too bad, still a little sore from where they restitched me up, but it's ok if I don't move around too much. I'm just overseeing the interns today, so no real stress.

She says it as though she is being punished, and the oncologist decides that if ever there was to be a picture beside the term 'hardworking' in the dictionary, it would be of the young blonde.

"Not quite your style? Still, everyone needs a rest now and then, Allison, I just hope you're being sensible when you get home! You should call on people to help you out, do your cooking and cleaning; make the most of your position."

He grants her a jocular wink and she smiles.

"Are you offering?! Oh my! First House, now you..."

She laughs amiably, while Wilson raises an eyebrow; suddenly curious.

"House?"

"Yeah, he came by mine when you told him I wasn't at work and ended up helping me with dinner."

"... House... Checked up on you?"

"...Well... I think it was more a case of worrying about his reputation as the all-knowing, legendary doctor than it was checking if I was alright..."

Cameron blushes, nibbling at her apple awkwardly as Wilson frowns.

_God, they're both just as bad as each other._

"Ok... But he cooked for you?"

"No, no, I cooked, I just asked if he would help so I could reach the plates and things that were high up."

"I see... So he stayed for dinner..."

"Well, yeah..."

"And then... He went home? Or?"

"Well, he's not going to have stayed about to read me a bedtime story..."

The blonde sarks, her tone irritable, but her cheeks a telling pink.

"No. Sorry. I just... He didn't tell me he'd been round yours is all."

"Don't worry, I know he's your boyfriend, I won't touch."

Wilson rolls his eyes as the immunologist gives him a measured look, and he decides that no matter how irresponsible he may find the notion of House going after Cameron- he doesn't know her well enough to feel he can judge vice versa- the two are surprisingly well suited in their sarcastic mannerisms.

"I don't think my heart could take it!"

She laughs at his theatric response, before glancing up at the large white clock that hangs above the food counter and excusing herself.

The oncologist watches on sympathetically as she moves with noticeable care.

* * *

"So that's twice in a week now..."

"Well, if you keep on at it and improve your aim, you'll be hitting the bowl _every_ time. Practise makes perfect."

"... Twice in a week that you've had dinner with Allison."

"Cameron?"

"... No... One of the_ other_ Allisons you've been cooking for and taking out for dinner."

"I didn't cook, she did. She asked me to stay, and, being a kind and compliant human being, I merely consented to her wishes."

"Doesn't sound like you."

"She was offering me home cooked pasta, and I happen to know that she knows a thing or two about seasoning. It was a good offer compared to _this_."

House gestures towards the left overs of the Chinese takeout that sits before them on Wilson's coffee table.

"The food or the company?"

"Well, _she_ doesn't ask _nearly_ as many pointless and annoying questions as you... But you_ do_ have childbearing hips."

"... Just be careful, House."

"Be careful? What of? Maybe you_ are_ talking about another Allison, because the Cameron I know deserves about as much caution as a toothless puppy."

"You have a thing for her-"

"-No. I just find it bad manners to watch a woman bleed unassisted."

"Oh come on, you've_ always_ had a thing for Cameron. Maybe not a crush, or an _interest_ or anything like that... But there's always been this... This..."

"Thing?"

"Yes!"

"She doesn't repulse me quite as much as the other two did and do, but I wouldn't go so far as to say that constitutes a 'thing'. Maybe just a 'th' at a push."

The oncologist rolls his eyes, dimly aware of the brittle undertone to his friend's sarcasm.

He has a feeling he wasn't supposed to find out about the events of the previous night.

He's right.

"So what's the lovely doctor going around telling people, anyway?"

"...Nothing, House. I asked her how she was over lunch and she just mentioned you'd been over for dinner. It's not like she couldn't contain her excitement and blurted it out."

"... You had lunch with Cameron?"

_Oh. You _definitely_ have a 'thing'._


	9. Chapter 9

As the night wears on, the two bottles that had stood as sentinels to grease speckled takeout boxes become four. Then eight. Then twelve. Wilson sips at his third while House nurses the dregs of his ninth; the graying doctor's eyes tinged red and his initial declination to discuss the events of the previous evening turning into an irritable commentary on the young blonde's shortcomings.

He has managed to regale the tale of arriving at Cameron's empty apartment with a suitable dose of disdain for his ex-employee's stupidity, and scowls in frustration when the oncologist adopts a horrified expression as he tells of the blood coating her bathtub.

"Jesus!"

"Idiot."

"Wow... I mean... What the hell was she _thinking_?!"

"Evidently she wasn't."

His words concerning the immunologist since then have been cruel, and the sandy-haired man imagines he has a fairly good idea why.

House is as private as he is proud.

She should never have mentioned their dinner.

The notion is ridiculous, as any sane person would surely agree, but he has known the man who sits slumped beside him for too long now to mistake him for falling into this category. Still, as the graying doctor's words become ever more venomous towards the young blonde, the oncologist finds himself growing tired of listening to such sniping. He doesn't know Cameron intimately well, but he likes her well enough, and upon hearing about the injury she had sustained at her own hand he is somewhat disturbed.

Partly due to concern for the young woman.

Partly due to the idea of she and House feeding off of each other's somewhat damaging sense of pride.

"Well, whatever, I think it's a good thing that you checked up on her..."

A glower, and the graying doctor pushes himself from the sofa, muttering that Wilson would do well to shut up.

He limps outside to sit sullenly on the step at the front door, the evening air carrying a frigid bite, but no wind. He is dimly aware of the fact that the dull anger he feels towards Cameron is almost entirely unjustified; knowing the young doctor well enough to be certain she wouldn't have gone around exclaiming about their evening spent in each other's company to just anybody. What irks him is that she has told _Wilson_, as it is the oncologist who forever decrees to hound him in regards to their peculiar relationship.

What irks him is that dinner with the blonde had actually been really quite, well, _pleasant_.

What irks him is that no matter how hard he has tried to push the young doctor away, she seems always to be on hand.

Always hopeful.

No. Not hopeful; that's not_ entirely_ fair. Whatever flame she had once held for him has long since burnt out, and she has made no secret of that fact. She isn't the same doe-eyed little girl he had originally hired- more out of curiosity than anything else; her grades and recommendations no better than plenty of the other applicants- but nor has she entirely outgrown him as the other two have in a sense.

She had outgrown the _job_, yes... But whereas Chase and Foreman have a career as their only objective, Cameron has never endeavoured- nor failed, as in the case of the neurologist- to cut any ties. She has grown up, and she has _wizened_ up. What hidden bitterness she had once carried- a bitterness he had initially presumed to be a result of her husband's death- is now more apparent; the young immunologist forever kind and goodnatured, but laced with a peculiar hardness; a little like biting down on tin foil.

She is no longer his_ little girl_... But there is a part of her that will always remain _his._

Whether he likes it or not.

And this evening he does not. He doesn't like it one bit.

Doesn't like the way his mind has kept wandering back to the skinny blonde since coming to her aid. Doesn't like the way she had scared him- actually_ scared_ him- by not being home when he had broken in. Doesn't like the way his stomach flips when he thinks of the bloody smears that had tainted white enamel. Doesn't like the way she crawls under his skin like a parasite. Like a virus.

Doesn't like the way he can't just react how he imagines any _normal_ person would react to the fact that his initial dread had turned into a surprisingly pleasant evening on both sides.

That he can't just look back on their dinner and acknowledge it for the simple thing it had been to his own best friend.

He is plagued by his own parting words- his offer that she should call him should she need to- and the vulnerability they had lent him.

His mind flashes with the image of her lips- slightly purple from the wine he knows will have coloured her tongue should she have stuck it out for him- and the way she had spoken about her life in a hatefully intimate way.

He is angry.

He is angry with her for putting him in such a position.

He is angry with her for continuing to trust him when he continues to screw her over.

He is angry with her for being weak.

For treating him as though he were a friend.

His teeth feel numb and his face feels loose and he knows he's drunk, and that it's entirely her fault.

Getting up from the stoop and grabbing his cane from its resting place against the wall, it isn't until he walks two blocks and turns a right that he realises where he's going.

But then this is nothing new.

* * *

Raising an eyebrow in surprise as the metallic buzz of her intercom fills the room, the blonde places her wine glass carefully on the coffee table that sits patiently before her and turns down the corner of the page in her book.

_Shouldn't do that, Allison, it ruins the paper. Just _look_ at the state of these! And, oh _god,_ girl, is that _highlighter_?! What would you go and do that for?!_

Mindy's voice, not hers, and she cordially ignores it just as she had done all those years ago.

Padding curiously over to the small speaker that lines her front door, she depresses the communication button after a brief pause.

"Hello?"

Static crackle but nothing more.

"Hello?"

"Ca...n"

She frowns; the voice on the other end so distorted that she doesn't quite catch enough to suss that the jumbled sound resembles her name.

"Um, this is Ali... Can I help you?"

"Ali... Ali? Really? _Ser-sly_... uckin'... cute..."

Brow furrowing deeper as she recognises the irritable grumbling despite the fractured delivery, she hesitates for a moment as she tries to get a handle on the situation before pressing the button on her end once more.

"_House_?!"

Receiving no answer, she merely rolls her eyes, before pressing the small silver button that centres the intercom to allow him to enter.

Hurrying to her bedroom to find some form of sweater or cardigan to cover the thin camisole she wears over her pyjama shorts, she is back at her door and peering out into the hallway by the time the telling thunk of the older doctor's cane alerts her to his imminent presence.


	10. Chapter 10

_Hurrying to her bedroom to find some form of sweater or cardigan to cover the thin camisole she wears over her pajama shorts, she is back at her door and peering out into the hallway by the time the telling thunk of the older doctor's cane alerts her to his imminent presence._

"What are you doing here, House?"

She inquires curiously as his shadow casts an ominous figure onto the communal landing, before being proceeded by the man himself.

He frowns as her voice alone seems only to feed his current anger; characteristically good-natured and full of intrigue rather than showing any signs of annoyance at being disturbed at this unsociably late hour. Regarding her irritably, the graying doctor takes in Cameron's attire with a scowl; her slim legs bare beneath flimsy cotton shorts, with that ever vexing gap between them that is somehow so ridiculously childish.

Frustratingly innocent.

Moving towards her silently, it registers as yet another point against her in his current state of mind when it is only by the time he towers- somewhat threateningly- over her that her polite smile falters slightly; replaced by a quizzical look of incomprehension.

She steps back and lets him in.

"House?"

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why did you tell Wilson you cooked me dinner?"

"I... Well... I mean it just came up... I hadn't realized I wasn't supposed to..."

She adopts her own small frown as she turns to face him and closes the door behind them.

"...You came all the way here just to ask me why I mentioned last night to _Wilson_? Did you drive? Are you drunk?"

Her last question is fairly rhetorical; she can smell the alcohol on him from where she stands several feet away.

"Am I-... _God,_ you really are _insufferable_, you know that?!"

Pretty, green eyes blink rapidly, and the pleasant curve of the blonde's mouth falls as she takes a step back, her ass hitting the door. House rolls his eyes; the hurt expression that crosses her fine features nothing new. Sighing, he battles with himself as he realizes he doesn't really have much of a _clue_ what he's doing here.

_I came because you've been plaguing my thoughts and conversations ever since that asshole took a stab at you- ha- and I watched your- oh so perfectly, innocently pink- scrubs blossom scarlet and some idiot part of me decided to lend a hand._

_I came because I want you to get _angry_ with me for barging in on your evening only to speak to you in a way any normal person would have long since despised me for._

_I came because I want to know if the wine colors your tongue the way it does your lips._

Of course he can't tell her _any_ of these things.

Instead he simply out stares her.

"I... I was just asking... Look, it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow, as do _you_!... Only_ I_ have to be there on time... So if you wanted something, or needed anything then that's cool, but... If you've just come here to argue about last night then that's... Well, that's pretty shitty of you, really..."

_'Pretty shitty'? And you're _surprised_, Dr Cameron? Do you possess any recollection of the past four years at _all_?_

Despite his irritable internal monologue, House's shoulders droop slightly as he takes in the way she crosses her arms over her chest and eyes him warily; clearly upset but also defeated, and he cant help but wonder why he feels the constant need to do this to her.

_Because she lets you?_

Ah, there is that.

Sighing deeply, he looks down at his cane so that he doesn't have to maintain eye contact; addressing her gruffly.

"Wilson looks into things... I'd rather not receive lectures on my feelings towards you and how to deal with them."

"...Your feelings towards me?"

"Ah, they exist only in_ his_ head, Dr Cameron, before you go getting all gooey on me. Personally I find you just about tolerable, bordering on annoying, but it has always proven rather difficult to shatter his delusion."

"Yeah, well, you didn't need to come all the way here to tell_ me_ that... Wilson asked me if you'd, uh, 'stayed over' after dinner... I told him no, before you ask... And to answer the question you seem reluctant to bring to the table; yes, I am _fully_ aware that you're not interested in me... There's only so many times you can be told 'no', before you have to just grin and bear it or buy a bunch of cats."

He raises his eyebrow at this last part and she offers a small smile despite the animosity shrouding his previous words towards her.

_And this is why people fuck you over, Cameron, because you goddamn let them._

Giving in to her obvious desire to sweep whatever irritation he currently suffers under the carpet, he looks around her cosy apartment theatrically, before glancing back up to meet arresting green.

"No cats..."

"No."

"And yet, you're not grinning..."

"Ah, well it was a long time ago, and I've found another way of dealing with your heartbreaking rejection."

"Sleeping with Chase?"

A warning glance, but she says nothing on that particular little situation, opting instead to simply make her way back to the sofa and pointing to the half empty glass that rests on the coffee table.

"Wine."

This finally earns her a small smirk, and House limps a little closer to regard her pensively.

"Should I feel guilty that I have driven my ex-employee to drink?"

"It would be rather presumptuous of you to take all the credit... But even if that_ were_ true, it's not like you would."

"Your words _hurt_, Cameron!"

"I know the feeling."

Blunt, truthful, simple.

There is no anger in her tone, but nor is there any joviality, and he merely nods, accepting that it is what it is.

"So what now?"

She asks, taking a sip of plum purple Merlot as his crystal blues study the act intently. She sits slumped back on the sofa in an oddly teenage fashion, and he ponders not for the first time how misleading her looks can be. At work, dressed smartly and donning a little makeup, she passes for about twenty five which is close enough, but the few times he has come calling on her when on her own territory, he has found her clad in hoodies, shorts or jeans and barefaced, her resultant appearance unsettlingly youthful.

_It's her goddamn legs; I'd bet if not for her height she'd have no trouble shopping in the kiddie department._

"What now?"

"Well... It's getting on for midnight and I can tell from the way you're standing you're in p-... Walking back to yours may not be the best idea..."

"You're off the clock; I don't need a doctor."

"No, but I'm allowed to express my opinion."

She shrugs, and he supposes that from anyone else such a statement would serve to irk him, but he is somewhat glad to catch a hint of backbone from her after the wounded expression she had offered him earlier.

"... Fine."

"You're welcome to stay here..."

"And after you _just_ told me you were over me! Now you're trying to get me into bed for some hardcore S&M, you-"

"-Just the bed part, and I won't be in it, so you don't have to worry. This is a sofa bed."

"Yeah, you never struck me as one for bondage."

"Oh, I don't know; it's always the quiet ones."

Raising an eyebrow, House regards her curiously; not sure if this her seemingly newfound sassiness showing through, or if she is simply stating a fact.

It wouldn't be the first time she has come out with a little nugget of information that has thrown him.

_"If you ask me, if two people really trust each other, a threesome once every seven years might actually help a marriage."_

"Oh?"

A grin, and a brief flicker of her tongue through pretty, white teeth, and he discovers that it is indeed tinged purple from the wine.

"One should never presume."

"No... I suppose one mustn't"

He smirks, her ostentatious wording tickling him, while his mind serves him up several less than professional images of the young blonde he waves firmly aside.

Watching as she drags the coffee table neatly into the corner, he tells himself not to stare at her ass when she bends over the sofa to pull out the bed with a few brutal yanks.

He is almost successful.

"Need help?"

She turns to roll her eyes at him; having quite clearly finished the job.

"How gentlemanly of you."

But her lips twitch with a smile, and she pads off into the corner to open up a narrow closet from which she pulls a navy blue quilt and cushion.

"I try."

"Hmm... Perhaps I have found the one thing at which Dr Gregory House is doomed to fail..."

"Hey, I took you to dinner didn't I?"

"Mhmm, and I must say I'm mildly touched you didn't order me a happy meal..."

"Not _that_ dinner. The one you were so keen on begging me out on before-"

"- Okay."

She stops him swiftly, offering him a weary glance, and he supposes he has jabbed at her one too many times in regards to her previous affections.

Well... At least for tonight.

"You know where the bathroom is..."

_Red, red, red. _

_Have you cleaned up your scarlet idiocy?_

_Of course you have..._

_You're Cameron._

"I do."

"And before you insult me with the question; no, I will not be mentioning this little sleepover to Wilson."

Grinning at her sudden irritable tone, House simply nods; secretly thankful that she seems set on leaving him to it as the beer is beginning to take its inevitable effect of making him drowsy.

"Just so we're clear."

One last snide comment, and he smirks as she rolls her eyes and turns for the bathroom; his gaze falling to long legs as she leaves.

"Goodnight, House."

"Yeah."

His answer is little more than a grunt, and she shrugs as she shuts herself away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of her living room.

_And thank god for that; if Wilson only knew where I was right now, his head might explode!_


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_Very short one I'm afraid, but I can also say I have finally pencilled out a story line for this! Please comment, and I hope you enjoy! :)_

* * *

_Roused by a gentle dip in the rather worse-for-wear, cardboard-like mattress on which he slumbers, House rolls slowly onto his side to find himself accosted with tousled blonde; his newfound bedmate lying with her back to him and saying nothing. _

_He is _sure_ she must only just have joined him, or else what could have woken him?_

_Crystal blues trained sharply on the gentle slope of her shoulder, he notes that she has discarded the hoodie she had been wearing upon greeting him, in favour of a simple, white tshirt. _

_And... There is something strange about that, but he can't quite place his finger on what exactly that might be..._

_"What are you doing?"_

_Low. Gruff. Emotionless._

_And he_ has_ to keep his tone free from emotion, as right now he is crucially aware of the heat from her emanating towards him beneath the sheets, and the smell of her as light, cornsilk curls- sweet smelling, almost as though fresh from the shower- ignite some very inappropriate ideas in his head indeed._

_But then, isn't_ she_ the one who has crossed the line in crawling into bed with him?_

_"Cameron?"_

_No answer._

_No _verbal_ answer, anyway, but he is certain he catches a low laugh; sure he feels her shake slightly with it. _

_"What are you doing?"_

_A little more curious now, and waiting for an answer, but still she keeps her teasing silence._

_And this time, this time he knows she's chuckling playfully at his expense._

_And fuck it, why does she have to be lying so goddamn _close?_  
_

_He could have _sworn_ there was more space between them only a second ago._

_Her long hair tickles the bare flesh of his bicep; having stripped himself of his shirt and jeans upon retiring to bed to sleep in his boxers._

_She adjusts her position ever so slightly, and he raises an eyebrow as the soft cotton of her shorts brushes low against his abdomen. _

_He wonders whether he should be embarrassed by the fact that his body responds to such attention as unabashedly as it does, but then _he's_ not the one rubbing his tight, little ass against his ex-boss's crotch. _

_"What are you doing?"_

_Lower this time- muttering into the shell of her ear- but he knows._

_Oh, doesn't he just know what she's doing..._

_Slipping his hand around her to rest flat against her stomach, he pulls her into him with a little more force; guiding her body into applying pressure where he needs it most. _

_Growling into golden tresses, he allows his fingers to wander a little further south; slipping his hand beneath the waistband of her shorts to find the scant cotton of her underwear. _

_Slim legs clench together, but she backs up into him teasingly, and he slips a long middle finger deftly over damp cotton and smirks as she lets out a low hiss, and her hair smells like coconut, and her heat smells like freshly ground... Coffee?_

Coffee?

Blinking slowly to adjust to the dim shadows that shroud his ex-empoyee's living room, House suppresses a groan as the beer from the night before greets him with an overly friendly thrumming behind his eyeballs.

He is a veteran of a heavy night's drinking, but he has found that since stumbling past forty, he is no longer spared the aftermath of his decisions.

The dull ache in his groin isn't doing much to help matters either.

_Fuck..._

'Fuck', indeed. It has been a long time since he has dreamt about his young protogee in a less than platonic fashion- certainly not since she flew the nest- but the hyper reality of his most recent curse of the sandman is something entirely different from the old dreams in which he had frequented bars or hired an escort only to find himself confronted with some ill-remembered, sunconsious-fractured, dream-version of the young doctor.

Slinging his arm over his eyes and clenching his jaw as he attempts to coral the static hiss of his hangover into submission, he finally proceeds to rub at his eyes before taking better stock of his surroundings.

Flat white ceiling; no nicotine stains, of course.

An understated lampshade he has seen replicated a thousand times before.

A thin, hairline crack in the paint in the far left corner.

Rolling over onto his side to observe her small kitchenette, he frowns.

"... Why are you sitting in the dark?"

His voice sounds obscenely loud to his own ears as he addresses the blonde's shadow-casted profile, and she turns to regard him with a start.

"Huh?"

A silver spoon heaped with muesli comes to a stop halfway up to her mouth as she sits perched up on one of the barstools that surround her kitchen island.

Before her sits a steaming mug of coffee.

_Coffee._

And her hair _is_ wet- the scent of her shampoo detectable from where he lies- but her tshirt is navy blue, not white, and he slowly come to the realisation that he had imagined her in the same tshirt she'd worn during the_ last_ time his brain selected to conjure her after being shot.

_Curious._

Perhaps, but he's not about to get Freudian over the fact.

His current interest is directed much more towards her behaviour than her wardrobe.

"Why are you eating your breakfast in the dark?"

"I didn't want to wake you."

A fair answer, yes, but there is still something ever so slightly comical to the situation, and he rolls his eyes as he finds he isn't surprised in the slightest.

"I made you coffee, but it's still in the machine to stay warm."

No. Not surprised at all.

_Of course you did._

Nor is he surprised when she lowers herself carefully from her seat and pads over to pour it for him.

"Thank you."

She nods at his low murmur, making her way over with a large, yellow mug and proffering it to him with a small, slightly awkward smile.

"If you, uh, if you can get ready soon then I can give you a lift..."

"To work?"

A sudden edge to the older doctor's voice, but Cameron bears this no mind.

She isn't surprised by House's behaviour any more than he is by hers.

"No, to yours so you can take your bike... I need to leave in twenty minutes."

She informs him, before padding back to the bar to finish her breakfast.

He tells himself to look away.

_You've grown up, Cameron... _


	12. Chapter 12

Regarding his team lazily as he rocks back in his chair, House frowns as he is accosted yet again by that most unnerving smell.

Almonds.

_Cameron._

He had used the soap beside her sink to scrub at his face in an attempt to eradicate any lingering traces of sleep, but now pays the price of catching that soft, sweet scent that sends his memory reeling as he recalls detecting that same aroma ghosting from countless patient files annotated in her neat, black cursive. His reaction to this assault on his senses frustrates him, as he attempts to deny the strange feeling of comfortable familiarity; telling himself that it is more his dislike for change than anything to do with the young blonde herself that has him pondering such a thing in a positive light.

Glancing over at Thirteen, he takes stock of pretty, heightened features with a peculiar clinical efficiency.

_She's undeniably much sexier than Cameron. _

Perhaps this is true, but the thought doesn't offer him as much smug comfort as he'd like.

_She smiles less._

Also true. The sometimes severe brunette lacks that same ever-hopeful look that had irked him so over the years spent with Cameron working beneath him, and he imagines the stark difference in the features and expressions of the two women might say more than he'd like about where his head had been at when making _that_ particular choice, despite their physicalites being much the same.

Hadley hasn't set herself up to continually endure the painful lesson that the world sucks, which blonde seems_ incapable_ of learning once and for all.

She knows it can and that it often does.

She is easier to deal with.

When he spits spite to hurt her, she gets annoyed.

It isn't always such a goddamned fucking _surprise_.

"House!"

His irritable pondering is fractured by the sharp tongue of the Dean as her bark cuts through the air like a whip.

Cuddy stands with her head poked round the door to regard the diagnostics team with a flustered expression.

Second-guessing the reasoning behind the Dean's tone, the graying doctor looks to his team with the wide eyes of comical surprise, as though only just noticing them.

"What are you lot doing sat around here?! You mean to tell me that not one of you had the sense to take my shift down in the Clinic? You-"

"-Never mind your incompetence to follow your job role right now; there's been a case file waiting for any _one_ of you idiots to bother checking downstairs, and a patient who's been waiting in the ICU for over half an hour. Contrary to your beliefs, I'm not paying you- _any_ of you- to sit around on your asses twiddling your thumbs, learning from the King of this discipline. Up! Go! Out! Now!"

The younger doctors that lounge around the large desk that centers the DDX room come round from their apathetic state with a start, the room suddenly filled with the dull scrape of metal chair legs on worn carpet as they hurry from the room in the wake of the small brunette who stalks irritably back towards her office; shaking her head as she goes.

* * *

"You alright?"

Cameron inquires, raising an eyebrow in question as Foreman falls into the seat opposite her and scoots over to the edge of the booth. Taking his responsive grunt to be a negative, she pushes her tray aside after rescuing the steaming cup of coffee that remains untouched and takes a sip, regarding the neurologist thoughtfully.

"Patient trouble or House trouble?"

"Both... Patient's a mess-"

"-Uncooperative?"

"Unresponsive! Which of course means House is out to solve some great and wondrous mystery in his ever cryptic manner... Full of useless suggestions and... Well... You know what he's like... And it's not the most _enjoyable_ case as it is."

"Oh?"

"Twenty-three year old Hispanic female brought in suffering convulsions and internal bleeding."

"Liver failure?"

"We tested for it, but there was little point. The bleeding has nothing to do with the seizures; the girl's black and blue all over... Broken ribs, cracked sternum... You name it, it's either broken or has been at some point. The Clinic say she was dropped off outside and left for someone to come see to her. She's been conscious a few times, but never coherent enough for questioning... Which of course suits_ House_ just fine-"

"-She can't lie-"

"Right... But it makes things difficult. She had a bag on her with some ID, but we can't find any existing medical records under her name. We have no way of knowing whether she's allergic to anything, or been prescribed anything in the past... We're doing the tests, but they're time consuming as you know, and she's deteriorating fairly quickly... I don't know, I just look at her and I hurt... Hate to imagine what it'd be like if _you_ were working the case..."

Despite his sour mood, Forman offers a small smirk as he serves up this last part, and the blonde rolls her eyes mainly to humour him; sipping at her coffee pensively.

"That's hard though... You call the police?"

"Cameron..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know... She needs to consent... But-"

"-Yeah, 'but' is the part that's the real issue here. I don't know. She's just young, and that's a hell of a lot of hurting on one small girl."

"...Sounds it."

Cameron sighs, surprised that her ex-colleague expresses his empathy so vocally, and clenching her jaw as she imagines just how bad that means the diagnostics team's case must be.

"Well... If you need any help with tests or anything-"

"-Then the other three can do it... You left, remember?"

"... I do... But I just thought... I mean, if you don't want my help then-"

"-You barely have time to get things done as it is..."

The neurologist interjects with tired patience; the blonde's sudden hurt at thinking him undesiring of her company painfully evident on her face."

"...And anyway, aren't you supposed to be taking it easy? How's your hip?"

"I'm fine."

"Is it healing alright?"

"It's fine!... Shit, it's like everyone's a damn doctor all of a sudden!"

Foreman rolls his eyes at her crappy joke, but doesn't press the subject any further. He has heard from Chase about the state in which the young surgeon had found Cameron back in her apartment, and the two of them had shared the communal opinion of their female ex-counterpart's actions being rather worrisome indeed. Of course, Chase had griped the cause to be House, and the neurologist doesn't deem this theory to be all that ludicrous, but, he'd hope they were wrong.

For all their arguments and bickering, he cares for the blonde as though she were his sister- having been forced to spend often fourteen hours a day under extreme pressure in her company- and he is relieved that she seems alright after the fearful discussion shared with Chase; the surgeon alarmingly pale upon his return from delivering Cameron to the ER.

"Good."

She smiles.

"I don't 'do' taking it easy."

"Yes, _that_ much I suppose I know... And look... It wasn't that I don't want you around or anything with what I said before, I just know you're busy... And I _also_ know you have the absolute worst case of Florence Nightingale syndrome."

"You know, I was reading somewhere that she was actually rather unappealing in person."

"...As I was saying..."

Pretty pink lips fall open with mock offence, and Foreman shakes his head wearily.

"You just have a tendency to try and spread yourself too thin... And anyway, you're currently in the decidedly enviable position of not having to deal with House."

"... I guess... Well, anyway, like you said, you have a perfectly good team."

"They're alright."

"Yeah? Meshing well?"

"... Yes?

The neurologist frowns as he catches the ill-hidden teasing lilt to the blonde's inquiry.

"Good."

"Ok...?"

"That's very good."

"...It is...I- What? Why are you smiling like that?"

"Oh, I just imagine you're meshing with some better than others."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm sure Hadley's good to work with... Pretty too..."

"Thirteen?!... Yeah... I mean, she's a good doctor..."

"Mmmhmm."

"Oh, stop it."

Foreman grumbles, scowling at the young immunologist as she smirks smugly.

"What? Am I wrong?"

"... I take it back; I don't want you around."

"Aw, come on now!"

"No, seriously, I forgot what a pain you really are."

"Rude."

"It's your own fault... To be fair, I'm not sure quite how well the rest of the team would take to you pitching in..."

"Thirteen wouldn't like it?"

"Oh, for god's sake! Will you just quit it?!... And, you know, of all of them, Thirteen might well be the _most_ likely to be on board."

"Oh?"

Cameron raises an eyebrow to match Foreman's own as he looks her up and down pointedly.

"And I'm sure House wouldn't mind either..."

_He couldn't be more wrong._


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **_Enjoy! And please please please review :) _

* * *

Bursting into the oncology office without warning, House throws himself down on the low sofa that backs up against the windowsill and lets his cane clatter to the floor dramatically; thunder evident at his brow.

"I'm sorry, do you have an appointment?"

The sandy-haired doctor inquires, without looking up from his notes.

"Convulsions, respiratory problems and a septic rash..."

"You realize your office is the next one along, right?-"

"-Oh, and a swelling of the tongue, let's not forget our newest symptom-"

"-Wherein you have an entire team trained for just this situation..."

"Foreman and Thirteen are in the labs, Taub's running trace, Kutner's in the clinic... And not one of them have offered up a useful suggestion for the past 24 hours. Best advice I've received so far came from the fucking wombat of all people down in the locker room- 'get a drink and go home'- and the day I start following Chase's suggestions is the day I...I... Fuck it... Make your own analogy. It's not happening."

Lowering his pen with a sigh, Wilson leans back in his chair and regards his old friend soberly.

"Septic rash and swelling indicate an allergic reaction."

"... Well, if it isn't Boy Wonder, saving the world one obvious observation at a time."

"It's not my specialty."

"Just imagine she's losing her hair and sporting a lump here or there."

"You know who you _should_ be asking..."

"Yes, the patient, but she's not in a position to talk right now... Which _ordinarily_ is the state in which I like them best, but-"

"-You want a second opinion on an allergic reaction, go and find Cameron."

"Why, so that she too can tell me what I already know?"

"... It's her specialty."

"She won't know anything I don't..."

"... Which is why you're asking an oncologist about swelling of the tongue..."

"Could be mouth cancer."

"... I'm not even going to justify that with a biopsy."

Wilson retorts, shaking his head and returning to his paperwork.

"Go and ask Cameron, House. You could barely stay away from her just the other day, let alone shut up about her."

"...Oh god, not this again..."

House groans irritably, a small flicker of anger igniting within him yet again at the troublesome blonde, but he dismisses it in favor of glaring at Wilson, picking up his cane, and dragging it across his friend's desk as he leaves, sending papers cascading onto the floor.

* * *

Limping away from a rather distraught looking Thirteen, House yells over his shoulder for the young brunette to get changed and switch shifts with Kutner; Hadley's pristine doctor's whites splattered with blood sent spraying up at her from a ruptured cyst. Yet another curiosity to be added to their patient's growing list of symptoms.

Cane thudding dully on ammonia-smelling linoleum, the graying doctor heads in the direction of the ER without really thinking about it.

The windows that line the corridor allow deep indigo to bleed though slanted blinds; the hour late and the hustle and bustle of the hospital at a thankful minimum. Even the ER- when he stalks through the large double doors- is fairly quiet at this time of night. Glancing over at a young nurse in the corner, he recognizes her as Nancy What's-Her-Name and moves over to inquire as to the whereabouts of the blonde; not spotting her amongst the sickeningly pink scrubs.

"Allison? I think she's in the break room."

Nodding and offering a grunt of thanks, House heads off towards the back of the room; pondering the fact that no matter how long he's known her, he will never think of the young immunologist by her first name.

Entering the break room, House experiences a moment's discomfort as this is a realm he rarely frequents. It is odd to him finding the blonde hanging around in this strange room, making coffee and chatting to staff he has never met.

_And chatting fairly animatedly at that._

Standing unnoticed in the door, he runs his long fingers over the handle of his cane pensively as he watches the interactions of the young doctor with a male nurse who sits perched on a low coffee table in the corner. Cameron has removed her scrubs- presumably off the ward for the time being but staying about to work a split shift- and stands leant over the back of the sofa; her elbows crossed beneath her breasts to support her as she laughs at something her colleague says, rocking her hips slightly from side to side.

She wears plain gray slacks which hug the globed flesh of her ass pleasantly in her current position, and a black woolen sweater he recognizes due to a curious zip detail at the nape. Recognizes... And knows the front of which to be cut in a surprisingly low V for the blonde's tastes; explaining the peculiar restless flickering of the nurse's eyes as he looks up at her.

She makes some inane comment regarding nylon tights which has her colleague barking with laughter; wolfish grin suggesting a salacious inside meaning to her words, and he doesn't need to be able to see her face to know that the pink tip of her tongue will be poking teasingly between her teeth as intelligent eyes glitter beneath well-arched brows.

"As great a view as it offers, you really shouldn't be standing that way so soon after surgery-"

Golden tresses tumble as the young doctor spins round at the sound of House's voice; a low hiss at the sudden movement supporting his warning as to taking it easy on her hip.

"- But then, weren't we recently discussing that you might have tastes of a kinkier nature? If bondage isn't an issue, maybe a little helping of pain as you stand so prettily bent over is just the ticket? Tell me, does it make you scream when-"

"-What do you want, House?"

She inquires caustically, though he is pleased to note a light blush creeping at her cheeks as she crosses her arms over her chest and attempts to pull off an icy glare. He is less enamored with the raised eyebrow and assumptive grin the male nurse offers her; dull brown eyes roaming over the blonde without shame. Catching House watching him, he offers a knowing smirk which has the graying doctor restraining the sudden urge walk over to the table and cave the man's head in with his cane.

"What will twenty dollars get me?"

He expects a disdainful cry of outrage, but instead she regards him levelly; green eyes cool and thoroughly unimpressed.

"It'll certainly get you a repeat of last night..."

Imagining his eyebrows are raised just as high as those of the spluttering man in the corner, he coaches his features swiftly to form a smirk, cocking his head to regard her curiously.

"Oh?"

"Sure; you can sleep on the sofa on your own..."

"Oh, dude, that's cold."

Both doctors turn to face the grinning nurse with equally disgruntled expressions; House eyeing him with open revulsion, while Cameron assumes a bizarrely authoritative pose and gestures towards the door with a nod of her jaw.

"Don't you have rounds to make, Tristan?"

"Not for another ten min-"

"-I think you should maybe start them a little early."

She suggests with bizarre sweetness, and the young man offers House one final glance before nodding and pushing himself up from the table.

"Good idea... Catch you later, Ali-.. Dr Cameron."

Watching her colleague hurry from the room, the blonde turns to her old boss and assumes a frown.

"What's with the look?"

She inquires; House's crystal blues twinkling as he regards her with an odd little smile.

"You're _bossy_ in the ER!"

He offers gleefully; taking in the young immunologist's foreign 'I'm not in the mood to take any shit' stance appreciatively.

"Yeah... Well... He's beneath me, and-"

"- Ah, that explains why that got so awkward-"

"- _professionally_ beneath me, and that was an entirely inappropriate comment."

"I see... Kind of like you insinuating you share a bed with me most nights..."

"... Or like _you_ insinuating that I'm a sexual masochist..."

"Are you?"

"...That's going to cost you a lot more than twenty dollars to find out."

Despite her deepening blush, she grins cattily, sensing victory as House is momentarily unable to mask a surprised bark of laughter; his eyes on her wide and openly impressed.

"Do you take Amex?"

"What do you want, House?"

"Do you know 'around the world'?"

"... House!"

"Septic rash and swollen tongue."

"... God, I hope those aren't more requests..."

"Convulsions with a diminishing interim period and respiratory difficulty."

"Conscious?"

"Sporadically."

"You get her allergy tests back?"

"Some. None of them conclusive."

"... Okay... Give me a minute, I'll meet you in the labs."

"Fine."

Watching the blonde move over to the sink to wash up her mug, House frowns, addressing her with a careful lack of emotion.

"And Cameron... Don't-"

"-Tell Wilson you asked me? Wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
